


the world is full of possibilities & by possibilities i mean werewolf boyfriends

by glitchesaintshit



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Notfic, Supernatural Elements, Werewolves, please explain why there are so many tags they're so CONFUSING i amn just.....a littel creacher.....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 19:43:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21307565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitchesaintshit/pseuds/glitchesaintshit
Summary: John's got a werewolf boyfriend as many ways as you can think ofaka they're idiots in love & one of them just happens to have fangs & claws
Relationships: John 5/Jim Root
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16
Collections: Love Is Stored In The Knot





	the world is full of possibilities & by possibilities i mean werewolf boyfriends

**Author's Note:**

> _It's a full moon, denim is tight, and my flannel shirt is freaking out_  
_Run for your life, cover your eyes, I don't want you to see me party this hard_  
_I've got a bone to pick with the morning sun and the first last call--_  
_But I didn't put my hair in a ponytail for nothing, so if I'm going home alone----I ain't going at all._  
  
  
why write the last 1800 words of your current WIP when you can write 1800 words of brand new esoteric experimental werewolf boyfriend bullshit instead amirite  
i'm sorry i'm like this but also??? not in the slightest
> 
> thank u anon for the [o.g. werewolf 5/4 juice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21263747) cuz since i was informed of the concept snakes have been physically manifesting my home & i have not experienced a moment's peace
> 
>   
also reader's note, this isn't a single coherent fic, it's a bunch of Separate Concepts but y'know. feel free to mentally remix to your heart's content. and then write full real fic of it and tag me in it so i can die 300 times consecutively

I.

John specifically sought out a werewolf boyfriend. _Because_\--. Because doesn’t matter. He reads on the internet that Denny’s right after sunrise is prime werewolf pickup spot and he’s like _yo_ and starts hanging out at freakin’ Denny’s. The only risk, flaw in this plan, is it’s hard to tell who’s hungover and who just woke up back in their human body after rampaging through the woods naked all night. He hooks up with a few dudes that are just actually hungover but then finally meets one with soft green eyes and a lopsided smile who says he doesn’t actually drink, just had--quote--“_a rough night_”--and they somehow end up on this guy’s couch talking until he passes out. His name is Jim, and when John brushes his tangled hair back out of his face he starts a little and apologizes for falling asleep eighty times, and John says it’s fine eighty-one times, then also says he’s gonna. Hang out here for a while. If it’s cool. The Grand Slam is finally catching up to him. If Jim’s okay with a strange dude falling asleep on his couch with him. And he is, and they pass out laying on each other’s shoulders watching a crappy action movie with loud commercials, and then they’re inseparable. And next full moon John gets fucked within an inch of his life, and comes harder than he ever has in his life, and he’s never been happier in his life and they fall in love. 

II.

Jim lives out in the country and has a barn he never locks and John figures it’s cuz he hardly has any neighbors to start with so why worry about security y’know. Somehow, they’ve just never slept over at each other’s houses--Jim works night shift, and on his days off he’s so tired he doesn’t want to burden John with “how hard he crashes out” and y’know. Maybe that’s a thing, or maybe it’s just some trauma or something, and John wants to know but also doesn’t. It doesn’t matter. It’s easy to put out of his head when Jim’s always surprising him with home cooking and flowers and comes over on snowy days to dig out John’s car so he doesn’t have to himself. The deep scratches in the barn floor are from the previous owner. John just doesn’t think about it.

III.

John’s boyfriend is perpetually tired. He has dark circles for days and staggers home every morning looking like he got in a bar fight and got stabbed or maybe did some stabbing himself. Come to think of it, actually, not once have they ever slept in the same bed together. Jim’s always out doing something--late-night favors and errands that commence just as the sun goes down and then he collapses into bed at dawn with this twisted smile on his face, looking drained beyond belief. 

John thinks maybe he’s moonlighting as a club DJ or a secret bounty hunter, but that wouldn’t explain why his good-morning kisses always taste like iron and his propensity for going barefoot. He’s got a lot of questions. The obvious answer to all of them is werewolves. 

IV.

Jim goes camping with his friends and never comes back. Missing persons reports are filed, search parties are launched, and John cries into Corey’s shoulder while they’re both being investigated for potentially having a hand in this disappearance but he took his shoes, his _shoes_ were gone, it’s not like he was yanked out of the tent in the middle of the night. For the first two days John’s worried so sick he actually pukes, can’t keep anything down, and he prides himself on _never_ puking. By day four the numbness sets in. He’s got no more tears left to cry. The cops and rangers and everybody keep saying that after 48 hours, in this terrain? It’s just a body recovery mission. They’ll find him. Eventually. Maybe.

Day seven, John finds gashes in the wood around their back door, like somebody took a hatchet to the frame. Corey comes to stay over indefinitely and a squad car drives by the house every fifteen minutes all night. John can’t sleep. He’ll probably never sleep again.

Day ten, Jim turns up naked on the front porch. John falls on the floor screaming and sobbing, clutching at his shaking body and running his hands over scraped and bruised flesh. Something’s changed, but it doesn’t matter. John will love him forever. John will always love him forever. Jim just holds John tight and says he’s happy to be back; doesn’t know what gave him the angry-looking wound in his thigh. He’s in the hospital then he’s out of the hospital and John lets him smoke in the house while he recuperates and they have sex like they’ve never had before, something deeper and tinged with loss and love and recovery. Something that shifts a little more uncanny every time, something raw and inching away from connection and both of them powerless to stop it. 

And on the full moon the fever comes, and then all hell breaks loose.

V.

John’s boyfriend is a werewolf and John loves him anyway, but he knew this going in so it’s not like it’s shocking. No, it’s an inconvenience because Jim will see a squirrel or something and short out and run away while he’s turned and get stuck like that, can’t get un-turned until somebody acknowledges his humanity and leads him home. Which sucks, because John’s not exactly the _outdoorsy_ type, so frankly it’s bullshit that he has to go sprinting through the fields and woods out behind Jim’s house on some sort of horrible wild goose chase _(werewolf boyfriend chase)_ with a bag full of clothes, which are heavy because even not as a wolf Jim is huge anyway, yelling his name and telling him to come back now, and John hates running and the outdoors and the _whole deal_ but he loves his stupid boyfriend so he does it anyway.

It’s easier to just wait until Jim inevitably falls asleep--even if that means John’s at risk of stumbling on him surrounded by an explosion of what used to be a bunny and is now just clouds of airy white fur and sticky dried blood which he’ll then have to help baby-wipe off because Jim’s disoriented when he comes back to and John hates blood but he loves his stupid boyfriend, and this is proof of devotion more than anything--and then throw clothes at him, yell his name and tell him to get his ridiculous wolf butt back in the house cuz they don’t have all day and John wants a _bath_ after this and they had _brunch plans_ and Jim’s _covered in blood again._

But y’know, the sex is amazing and they both love guitars and girls and weird movies and even smelling like Outside--iron, earth, sweet grass, dead leaves, sweat trapped against skin and dried down slowly in the cold--all John ever wants to do is bury his face in Jim’s neck and let Jim carry him home. And he does. 

VI.

The same as above, but instead it’s all John’s shaky fearful hands and breath frozen in the wind in the face of a snarl and _Jim. James. Honey. You can come home. You know we still love you. I love you. Please. Come home._ And then the wolf sits down, cocks its head to the side, considers John for a long while like it’s trying to decide whether or not to strike and bays quietly and John’s eyes drift up to the stars and then there he is again; John’s boyfriend. Naked and chilled and without shame, wrapping John in his long limbs and kissing the top of his head under the waning moon and whispering words of love and the forest into his hair.

VII.

Jim’s a werewolf, he’s always been a werewolf. Since he was a teenager, anyway, big dummy with no self-preservation instinct, out in the woods at night where he knew not to go by gut instinct. Got attacked and bit and turned. No guy’s ever stayed past the date where he tells them that. That he’s dangerous. That, y’know. He’s a liability, a threat, a potential face-eating monster. And _god,_ it gets lonely. He doesn’t dream in wolf-mode--at least not from what he can remember--but there’s a hunger, a thirst, a craving and he can feel it night in and night out on a subatomic level, throbbing from somewhere in his brain stem. He really, _really_ just wants to fuck. Like. That’s it. It’s shameful and dangerous and he doesn’t want to bring it up, but frankly the conversation never gets that far. It starts, gets to “_so by the way could you tell I was a Wolfman?_” and then they’re walking out or just go ghost on him, every single fucking time. 

John’s different. John brings it up first even, when they’re watching the Gary Oldman _Dracula_ together and he turns into a wolf to hypnotize Lucy in a thunderstorm and fuck her _en plein air_ and John’s breath catches a little before he sighs “_god I wish that were me_” half-joking and shifts his hand up Jim’s thigh. And Jim’s big stupid mouth just says “_what if it could be_” and John giggles, and Jim’s like “_no, seriously_” and John shoves him a little and sinks his fingernails into the coarse denim of Jim’s ugly jeans and slots their mouths together and then _Dracula_’s forgotten the way it has been the last eighty times they’ve tried to watch it. 

Except this time it’s “_no, **seriously**_” again when Jim’s breaking away to suck kisses down John’s neck, biting at him gently and John’s moaning lasciviously and pushing his hands up under his shirt and Jim can feel every beat of his pulse under his lips, hear every breath he takes. It’s “_John, I’m serious_” when John’s breathing heavy against his mouth and working a slender hand down the front of his ugly jeans--_fuck_\--until he finally grabs John’s face in both hands and tangles fingertips into his hair, kisses him hungrily, all teeth and force and instinct and craving. Thirst. Hunger. Something. Everything. Holding on for dear life and managing to stutter out “_John, I’m serious, I’m a fucking werewolf_” with John’s hand fully in his pants and John stilling at that, the tone of voice. And--_fuck._

And John just breathes, hand gone still & eyes wide & full of questions, and says “_seriously? Since when?_” and he looks so innocent and pretty and flushed cheeks and everything Jim wants to fucking decimate him. Beast mode. Full W.A.S.P. song vibes. The burning in his cerebellum needs a human sacrifice but he just breathes out, “_since always._”

And John considers that for the longest minute of Jim’s stupid life then finally nods, brushes their lips together again. Says “_y’know that’s hot, right? Like. I’ve jerked off to that_” which is more than Jim ever really bargained for, especially not the way John licks into his mouth with a noise of encouragement and goes back to stroking his cock like the conversation never happened. And next full moon, Jim absolutely wrecks John’s shit and the morning after they go to Denny’s.


End file.
